


Lucky In Love

by Milotzi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Get Lucky Fest 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 09:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18363554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milotzi/pseuds/Milotzi
Summary: First there is nothing, then there is everything between them. Brought together by Lady Luck, they will have to see whether they can survive and continue to be lucky in each other.





	Lucky In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the _HP Get Lucky Fest_ 2019 as a response to the prompt "It would be one of those evenings when Lady Luck showed the bitchy streak in her nature” --Tennessee Williams [from his short story, “Two on a Party”.] 
> 
> Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. The same goes for the short story of Tennessee Williams.
> 
> Thank you to the prompter for the wonderful prompt. Thank you to my betas Gelsey, Kelly Chambliss and The Real Snape for their help. All wrong decisions and errors are mine. Thank you to JKR and Tennessee Williams for the fictional worlds they created, their words, their characters, their narratives, which I based mine on. Thank you to fan writers before me who helped me develop my sense of who Minerva and Severus are. I am writing in the spirit of pastiche and with a great sense of gratitude to be a follower in their footsteps.

***

It was the middle of the night and the pain in his arm told him it was urgent. Even so, Severus Snape took a moment to look down at the sleeping witch curled up in his sheets. 

An “old bag,” that's what he had thought she was. As a boy, the moment he had seen her waiting for the new arrivals on the big stairway, on his first day at Hogwarts, he had considered her ancient. Unsurprisingly, since his mother, on the rare occasions she talked about her school days, had spoken of McGonagall with contempt, as a frustrated old maid. Of course, he realized later, that had been envy. There weren't even ten years between his mother and McGonagall, and, as it turned out, she was neither frustrated nor a maid. 

She was much older than he was, of course, but once they had begun to be more than colleagues, he stopped noticing. Instead of signalling her age, the wrinkles around her eyes showed him that she was amused; the way the furrow on her forehead deepened was a reliable indicator of how angry or upset she really was. Reading her mood shifts from minute changes in her expression became something he enjoyed and took great pride in. Her body, too, was like a favourite book he loved to peruse, carefully and leisurely, again and again. Sure, her breasts were bigger and less perky than Muggle advertising was suggesting as the norm, and her hips were wider, but being hers they were perfect because of who she was. His friend. His lover. Herself. 

With a sigh, he left. 

*

For a long time, their couplings had taken place more out of convenience than out of passion or any emotional need. 

They very nearly didn't have sexual relations at all. 

But sometimes, one moment out of the ordinary is all two people need to see each other in a new light. 

*

When he had returned to Hogwarts to teach, it had taken him some time to see her as his colleague rather than his former teacher. But colleagues they were, and eventually they became friends.

They would have been hard pressed to pinpoint when their drinking sessions as Heads of Houses had become less about work relations and more about companionship; it helped that they shared a somewhat quirky sense of humour, enjoyed banter and weren't averse to turning anything and everything into a competition. They hardly ever discussed private matters but were good at suggesting a drink or a bet when they sensed a distraction from something or other was needed. 

They weren't blind and realized each had a private life, of sorts: he had figured out why her friend from the Ministry stayed over night now and then; she knew what the marks on his neck meant that he was covering up with the scarf he was wearing after weekends spent away from the school. They saw but didn't feel it was any of their business.

Until a chance meeting in a London pub meant that they became each other's business. 

*.

Even before he saw Minerva on the other side of the bar, he had come to the conclusion that it was “one of those evenings when Lady Luck showed the bitchy streak in her nature.” He’d been to a club, then another one, and had finally ended up in this pub with two young women, both attractive enough and eager to please. The curvier one had clung to his arm and kept giggling at everything he had said. He'd been so sure she was up for a bit of fun. However, a few beers later, when he returned from the men's, where he had invested a few Muggle pounds in a tooth brush, some mints and some Durex packs, they had disappeared, together with his leather jacket. 

He was about to leave when he heard the kind of raucous laughter he still associated with those days when Rosier and the other members of their gang had interpreted “chasing” Muggle girls literally. There she was, swaying slightly on a bar stool, flanked by two blokes in their twenties, one of whom was groping her and seemed to have his tongue in her ear, while the other was rummaging through her handbag. For the briefest of moments he considered just leaving but, even though she was a grown witch and should have known what she was doing, there was something off here. First of all, she shouldn't have been in this type of place. And she shouldn't be with blokes like that. What on earth was she thinking? He had seen her nearly legless on rare occasions but not like this, never in public. And no witch would ever let a Muggle near her handbag like that. As he stepped towards the scene, she turned her face towards him, not quite seeing him, her pupils dilated. 

*

London was still crowded, with magic folk and Muggles trying to find their way home after a night out. A girl was throwing up on the sidewalk, a whole bunch of them was screaming at each other. Minerva would never forgive him if anyone saw her like this. He managed to avoid the Knightbus and hailed a black cab. It took some time to persuade the driver that his “girlfriend” would be fine for the duration of the short journey. He managed to bundle her in without hurting her. 

In the cab, she was a heavy weight against him; one of her hands was resting on his thigh. Her eyes kept closing. He managed to make her open her eyes with a murmured wandless Rennervate.

She smiled, then frowned. 

“You're nice. You smell nice. But I'm sure you're a bastard. They're all bastards. Cheating bastards. I'm done with cheating bastards. Why can't I be the cheating bastard instead? Too late. When you're broken up with a cheating bastard you can't cheat the bastard. That's logic. Are you a bastard?”

He was glad when she closed her eyes again. But she didn't keep them closed for long. 

*

Later that night, once he had made her drink enough potion, coffee, and water to sober her up, she was uncharacteristically embarrassed and apologetic. 

“I'm really, really sorry, Severus. I don't know how I ended up propositioning to you in a taxi. I know I was a bit down because of, well, a private matter, and thought I might as well have a drink or two. Oh. I went to a bar… But I'm sure I only had two drinks.”

“Yes, and at least one of them must have been spiked, Minerva. You should really know better at your age than to trust the kind of grifters who frequent that kind of establishment.” 

She raised an eyebrow, cautiously. “Like you?”

His lips twitched. “I should have known better than to frequent that establishment, too. I mightn't have had to restore the honour of the house of Gryffindor by illegal magical means only to have to defend the honour of Slytherin in a cab.”

He hadn't ever heard her giggle but giggle she did. Only to look deeply embarrassed. Both of which he found oddly attractive. Before she could start apologising again, he said, “Don't. You're welcome. You didn't interrupt a brilliant night out. I've had worse offers. And you're better company than any other I've had tonight.” 

“Likewise. Obviously.” And her eyes found his. 

Thus it began, in a dingy hotel room near Paddington a few days before the start of the school year. 

*

Their first time wasn't brilliant. No flashes of lightning struck. Indeed, it was fumbling and awkward, each too focused on pleasing the other to completely relax and enjoy themselves. But it was good enough for both to want a repeat performance. So they did it again, and again and again, not all the time but often enough, sometimes more frequently, sometimes occasionally. It was convenient, and they got used to each others’ bodies. They never talked about being monogamous, but they were. It was what it was, and it was good. 

It was good for a good number of years, even when the necessity of the times meant that he was spending more nights in the Dark Lord's company than with her. 

One night during those latter years she woke up, the space next to her still warm but empty, and she surprised herself by thinking that she loved him. For a moment she allowed herself to dwell on this. 

He wasn't a handsome man. Indeed, many, including himself, would have considered him ugly. His body was scrawny, his black hair was greasy, his nose hooked, his skin sallow. His dark eyes were his only redeeming feature unless they were staring or seemed dead to the world around him. She could not remember whether she had ever considered his features or looks, even in passing, before they became more than colleagues. Once his body had become such a source of pleasure and his face, surprisingly, such a joy to behold, she wasn't able to look at him in any other way. He was her friend. Her lover. Himself. 

She loved him. 

Then she buried that thought deep inside herself. This wasn't the time to go down that path and upset the careful equilibrium of a relationship that provided comfort and a safe haven.

Maybe a time would come. After this war. If they survived. If they were lucky. 

***


End file.
